25. A Better Understanding #2
He offered the observation simply, without inviting admiration for his own reformation. Elizabeth found that restraint more convincing than any elaborate profession could have been.
Mrs. Bennet nodded vigorously.
“Auntly authority may accomplish what brotherly affection cannot. I have always maintained young ladies require sensible female guidance.”
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow.
“My dear, I was not aware you considered yourself severe.”
“I can be, when circumstances demand it.”
The declaration produced the first genuine smile Elizabeth had managed that morning.
“A lady ought to have another woman during the most trying years.” Mrs. Bennet clicked her tongue in sympathy. “The dear, motherless child!”
“There is much truth in that,” Mr. Wickham replied. “Lady Matlock possesses a firmness Miss Darcy has not previously encountered. Mr. Darcy himself acknowledged that his aunt is unlikely to indulge either self-pity or excuses.”
“I imagine she will not,” Mr. Bennet observed dryly.
Mr. Wickham smiled.
“No, sir.”
The conversation shifted briefly toward Lady Matlock herself, neither Elizabeth nor her family having met the lady.
Mr. Wickham described her with cautious diplomacy, speaking of intelligence, strong opinions, and a remarkable ability to detect evasion before a sentence had fully concluded. Even Lydia laughed at that description.
“It speaks well of you to say so, Mrs. Bennet. Now, if you will excuse me, I have yet to return to my lodgings. I dare say Mr. Philips will have a long list of tasks for me to complete.”
“I have no doubt he has twice that number prepared,” Mr. Bennet answered. “My brother enjoys reminding industrious clerks how indispensable they have become.”
A ripple of laughter passed around the room, easing at last the solemnity that had governed the morning.
“I shall walk you to the door!” Lydia sprang to her feet and wrapped her arm through Mr. Wickham’s.
The movement possessed all Lydia’s customary enthusiasm, though she moderated it sufficiently to avoid any appearance of impropriety.
Mr. Wickham offered his arm with evident pleasure, and together they crossed the hall while the remainder of the family lingered behind, granting them a few moments’ conversation before propriety demanded Lydia’s return.
“Thank you, Miss Lydia.” Wickham granted the lady a warm smile, and Elizabeth saw the affection thereon.
Lydia answered in a voice too low for Elizabeth to distinguish the words, though whatever she said caused Mr. Wickham’s expression to brighten despite the weariness still lingering about him.
Before stepping outside, he bent his head slightly toward her, and Lydia laughed with unconcealed happiness.
Her heart warmed, and she thought of her gentleman.
Mr. Darcy came three days later, just as Mr. Wickham said.
Those intervening days seemed longer than the fortnight that had preceded Mr. Wickham’s visit.
Elizabeth endeavored to occupy herself with ordinary pursuits, accompanying Jane upon her walks, assisting her mother with correspondence, and reading aloud to Kitty during the evenings.
Yet every occupation eventually gave way to expectation.
More than once she wandered to the drawing room windows upon hearing carriage wheels in the lane to discover a neighboring family or a tradesman’s cart passing toward Meryton.
Jane observed these little disappointments without remarking upon them, though Elizabeth caught more than one affectionate smile directed her way.
He arrived while his old friend called upon Lydia.
The coincidence delighted Mrs. Bennet beyond measure, for she declared that Providence had arranged the meeting for the convenience of everyone concerned.
Mr. Bennet merely folded the corner of his book to preserve his place and remarked that Providence generally preferred less complicated methods, though he did not appear displeased by the unexpected convergence of visitors.
Mr. Philips did indeed have a long list of tasks for his clerk, but Wickham still found time to call upon Longbourn.
His industry had become a frequent subject of praise within the neighborhood.
Mrs. Long had remarked he previous day that Mr. Philips must think exceedingly well of his young clerk to entrust him with so many responsibilities, while Sir William Lucas had expressed confidence that such diligence could not fail to advance a gentleman’s prospects.
Lydia accepted every favorable report with unconcealed satisfaction, though she attempted to attribute them to Mr. Philips’ discernment rather than to Mr. Wickham’s merit alone.
“Mr. Darcy, ma’am.” Mrs. Hill announced the gentleman, and Elizabeth’s heart leaped.
She had imagined this meeting so often during the preceding days that reality seemed strangely quiet by comparison.
There were no dramatic declarations in the hall, no hurried footsteps.
The familiar voice of Mrs. Hill, the opening of the parlor door, and Darcy himself crossing the threshold with the same dignity that had first distinguished him in Hertfordshire, though the recent trials had left their mark upon him.
He appeared leaner than before his departure, and the lines of fatigue about his eyes had not yet disappeared.
She had half expected him to send a letter to Mr. Bennet announcing his need to remain in town for the foreseeable future.
Indeed, reason had suggested such an outcome from the beginning.
Georgiana required care, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Matlock would naturally demand consultations, and there must be legal questions concerning Mrs. Younge and the vanished Mr. Wycombe.
Any one of those obligations might have detained him indefinitely.
It was silly; she knew he loved her, even after their disagreement.
The certainty had sustained her through anxious days. Whatever mistakes had divided them, she had never doubted the sincerity of his attachment. That confidence rendered the sight of him all the sweeter, for it transformed anticipation into gratitude.
“Good day, ladies. Mr. Wickham.” He nodded and took the offered seat.
His greeting possessed less reserve than had characterized their earlier meetings.
Darcy acknowledged Wickham with sincere civility, and Wickham answered in kind.
They were not yet restored to the easy friendship of their youth; too much had passed between them for that.
Yet each had begun to believe such a friendship might, with time and honesty, be rebuilt.
The alteration drew Mr. Bennet’s attention over the top of his spectacles, while Mrs. Bennet looked from one gentleman to the other with evident satisfaction, as though harmony itself constituted excellent entertainment.
The atmosphere stayed warm, unlike previous meetings in this room.
Conversation resumed naturally after the first moments of greeting.
Kitty inquired after Miss Darcy’s health with genuine concern, Mary expressed the hope that time and proper guidance would restore her peace of mind, and Mrs. Bennet lamented once again the dangers to which wealthy young ladies were exposed.
Darcy thanked each of them with courtesy before his gaze landed unconsciously upon Elizabeth.
The weariness remained, but so too did the unmistakable relief of seeing her again.
Elizabeth took his hand and waited for Darcy to speak.
His fingers closed around hers with gentle firmness, and for an instant neither seemed inclined to release the other.
The room remained full of conversation, yet the familiar warmth of his hand conveyed more than either could comfortably express before an audience.
Mrs. Bennet pretended not to notice. Jane very deliberately examined the embroidery resting in her lap.
Eventually, he offered her a wan smile.
Though subdued, it was genuine. Elizabeth thought she had never valued one of his smiles more highly.
“I suppose George has told you everything,” he began.
“He has related the principal events,” Mr. Bennet answered before Elizabeth could reply. “Though I suspect there are particulars which need not become the property of every curious neighbor.”
Darcy inclined his head.
“I should be grateful if they did not.”
“You may depend upon our discretion.”
“Indeed, he has. How do you fare? How is Georgiana?”
Elizabeth’s question softened the gravity that had come over the room. Darcy looked at her for a long moment before answering, as though grateful she had thought first of his sister rather than of the extraordinary circumstances themselves.
Darcy shook his head.
The movement carried equal measures of affection, disappointment, and concern.
“My sister refuses to accept her culpability. She insists she acted on her best interests and it is not her fault this other Wycombe was duplicitous.” Her apologies had been born of shock and abandonment; once the first anguish passed, she again insisted that Wycombe’s deception absolved her of every choice that had preceded it.
A brief silence followed.
Jane spoke first.
“She has suffered a severe disappointment.”
“She has,” Darcy agreed. “My aunt believes much of her present obstinacy arises from wounded pride. Georgiana cannot yet bear to admit how thoroughly she deceived herself.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed sympathetically.
“Poor child. It is a painful lesson.”
“I fear she will need time to understand the error of her ways. I can scarcely fathom how the dear girl I knew in town could be so…”
Elizabeth allowed the sentence to trail away. She could not reconcile the affectionate, timid young lady she remembered with the one Mr. Wickham had described. Yet perhaps both had existed together all along, hidden beneath fears no one had fully perceived.
“Yes, there are no words.” Darcy frowned.
He rested one hand upon the arm of his chair before continuing, choosing each phrase with visible care.